


Developing a Habit

by catlike



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Polite thieving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 18:57:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21325042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catlike/pseuds/catlike
Summary: Selina Kyle is fifteen-years-old the first time she ever asks Bruce Wayne if it’s okay for her to steal something from him.Neither one of them has any idea that it’s going to become a habit.
Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110





	Developing a Habit

Selina Kyle is fifteen-years-old when she picks up the habit.

She’s fifteen and fighting off a terrible, traitorous blush because Bruce is telling her that he feels tied together with her in a way he’s never felt with anyone else, in a way he wouldn’t ever change. And she gets it, because she feels that connection too, feels it like it’s something magnetic, something _electric_, but she’s not going to admit that out loud.

So she changes the subject and desperately tries to keep the awful pink blush out of her cheeks.

(She fails.)

“I’m going to steal one of your cars to take back to the city,” she says, trying to ignore the stupid, _stupid_ flutter in her chest that starts when Bruce’s eyes meet hers and how it feels like her world’s stopped spinning for a second. “Is that cool with you?”

The fact that she’s bothering to check with him first before she takes off with his car is something of a testament to their friendship (and whatever this new _thing_ is between them that she’s trying not to think about.) She’s not really waiting for his formal permission - cats rarely yield to anyone, after all - but somehow Selina finds herself caring about what his answer is anyways. She likes the idea that in a world full of _no’s_, Bruce will be the one person who’ll say _yes_; that he’ll always say yes to her.

And he does.

(It’s the first time Selina ever asks Bruce if it’s okay to steal something.

And it’s not the last.)

***

Selina is sixteen and is taking an involuntary swim after being pushed into the Gotham harbor during a trap gone wrong. She surfaces with a mouthful of seawater, and is screaming both horrible insults and horrifying threats when Bruce takes off his sweater, wraps it around her, and shuttles her into his car. 

She’s still muttering terrible, terrible things about the freak that pushed her in and how she’d like to return the favor when Bruce pulls up in front of her apartment.

“Our trap worked, Jim arrested him,” Bruce reminds her as he parks the car and the purr of the engine slowly fades. “And I believe the GCPD would frown upon you trying to take a criminal in their custody to, quote, _‘shove them underwater and get some payback_.’”

Bruce is probably right. But a girl’s got to fantasize every once in a while.

Oh well.

“Fine. But I’m stealing this from you,” Selina says, nodding down at his sweater that’s wrapped around her. She’s still got saltwater stinging her eyes and the briny taste of the ocean on her tongue, but Bruce’s sweater is made of cashmere and is cozier than anything she’s ever worn in her entire life and it somehow feels comforting. She doesn’t want to leave his sweater behind and face the sharp slap of cold air on her wet skin, even for the short trek upstairs. “Okay?”

“Sure.”

(A week later, when she still hasn’t returned the sweater, Bruce asks her about it. But Selina likes how warm it is against the night air and how soft it is against her skin and – though there are exactly three thousand things she’d rather do than _ever_ admit to it – she also likes that it smells like him. She’s definitely keeping it, she decides. He’ll just have to go buy himself a new sweater. It’s not like he can’t afford it. Selina’s pretty sure Bruce can afford to buy an entire sweater _factory_. He’s a billionaire, after all, and she really doesn’t feel sorry for him.

“Oh, no,” Selina says, smirking. “You’re never getting that sweater back.”)

***

Selina is eighteen when she breaks into Wayne Manor’s kitchen at three o’clock in the morning to search for something to eat.

Bruce doesn’t even pretend to be surprised to see her randomly appear in his house anymore. This scenario happens way too often for that. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m uninvited,” Selina says as a greeting while she moves to rifle through the cupboards and peek into the jars on the counter. “But I’m hungry.”

“As if not being invited anywhere’s ever stopped you before,” Bruce replies in that calm, factual way of his. Then something in his gaze softens, the way it always does when he looks at her, and he adds, “Besides, you’re always welcome here. You know that.”

Selina stops her rummaging for a moment to glance up at him. He looks tired. So, so tired. He must’ve been out on patrol, she realizes, or working late on one of his cases. She knows he loses track of time when he works, loses track of anything that’s not the mystery he’s trying to unravel in his mind. There’s grey circles under his eyes and his dark hair is askew in a way he’d never let it be during the day. His movements are just a bit slower, his footsteps just a bit heavier. Bruce has always borne the look of someone who has the weight of the world on his shoulders, but there are some nights where he looks like the weight’s threatening to make him collapse.

She wants to tell him to stop, to put the world down for a minute before it crushes him. She wants to say he’s not Atlas, that he’s not part of a Greek tragedy, but she knows that he might as well be; knows that he can’t stop being who he is and helping however he can, so the words never leave her lips and she turns her attention back to the counter.

“I’m stealing some of these cookies, okay?” she says, holding up a cookie jar in one hand and shaking it at him.

“Take them all,” Bruce says, yawning. “Just make sure to return the jar. Alfred will be livid if you don’t, it’s part of a set.”

She laughs at that, and then smiles, and Bruce smiles back at her, and they act like this - unexpected meetings in the middle of the night - is normal.

But maybe for them, it _is_ normal.

(“Go to bed, Bruce,” Selina adds later, as she climbs out the window. She never could bring herself to use a door when she didn’t have to. “You look terrible.”

“Goodnight to you too, Selina.”)

***

Selina is thirty-eight-years-old before she asks to steal the same item for a second time. 

There’s a sliver of a silver moon up in the night sky along with stars that glitter like tempting diamonds in a jeweler’s window, and once again, a bat and a cat find themselves up on a roof.

“You. Me. A rooftop. It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?”

Bruce stops at Selina’s words and looks around, as if noticing for the first time where they are, which isn’t surprising. They’d had to leave the scene down below quickly before it was swarmed with police picking up the thugs they just fought, and they hadn’t really had time to think about where to go. It had almost been an unconscious decision on both their parts to run to the roof for safety.

“We do seem to end up here a lot,” Bruce admits.

Selina hums in agreement as she watches the glowing row of car headlights below, and then feels compelled to add, “At least you aren’t dumping money off the roof this time.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“You threw _money_ off a _roof_, Bruce.”

“The money was for _research_, Selina.”

“Whatever,” she says. His argument didn’t impress her back then and it certainly doesn’t impress her now. 

But Bruce is starting to say something else, something about the criminal psychology research the money was part of, and Selina really doesn’t care to hear one of his lectures, so she rolls her eyes and shuts him up the best way she knows: she leans in and kisses him, effectively stopping him mid-sentence. She enjoys the sudden silence and the feeling of his arms sliding around her waist and his lips moving against hers, and then, quick as lightning, she snatches his keys.

She pulls back, and just like she did all those years ago when she was fifteen, she says, “I’m going to steal your car now, okay?”

She holds up his keyring she’s plucked from his pocket, a triumphant smile flashing across her face as she does.

Bruce just looks resigned.

(“Selina,” he says, sighing like he always does whenever this happens now. “We drove here together. We’re _married_. Everything’s half yours. You don’t have to pick my pocket and steal the keys from me.”

“Come on, Bruce,” she says dismissively, waving her hand and jingling the keys, “where’s the fun in that?”)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr for the prompt request Batcat + Car. (If you happen to like what I wrote, come find me on tumblr where I can usually be found screaming about batcat. Username: selinaakyle)


End file.
